Perhaps he was aligning the stars

On a cold winter’s night

The crowds had gone home

Holding hands

Playing sweet melodies

That defined their lives

The snow had begun to fall

As any other day

While hours drifted by like quick minutes

His mind moved towards a solution

Certainly not one we might all pick

In fact, few would

Yet sanity had drifted away

Much like a windswept notion of love

That became a distant memory

She did play with his urges

Engaging, pretty, searching

Notions of grandeur would not get past her

Own ability to recognize futility

Dance his driven desire to bed her

Eyes broke their slow tease of passion

In the night ahead steps leaving one trail

Walking to that hallowing ground

More alone than minutes earlier

Stand upon this elegant mortality

Holding court with this brief fantasy